THE MOVE

It was just before Christmas when
everything started to turn, well, weird.

Standing in my now empty room I try
once again to piece together what exactly could have caused my world to
suddenly turn upside down. But as usual, it’s the same ol’ process.

Staring out my window to the
backyard, I replay, for the hundredth time, the day I came home early from
school to find my parents sat at our kitchen table in an odd, trance like
state. They were holding hands and staring at each other but you could tell by
the glaze of their eyes that they weren’t actually “seeing” each other. They
must have sensed me come in or something, because not even a full minute had
gone by when their eyes cleared and Mom jumped up from her seat. She
immediately made my favourite after school snack – Nutella on toast – without a
word. She didn’t even ask why I had come home early. I wasn’t sure what, if
anything, I should say about what I had just seen, it was totally creepy. I
wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what the deal was. I mean really, were my
parents into some kind of cult thing? Were they secretly doing some crazy drugs
that I never knew about? But that didn’t make sense either, because it’s not
like you can just turn the effects of drugs off and on at will.

My parents were very restless and
secretive for the next few days and I often caught them whispering in hushed,
but urgent voices. Finally, I snapped, their behaviour was driving me nuts. I
demanded that they tell me what was going on. They looked like a couple of kids
who’d been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. That’s when Dad simply
announced that we'd be moving in about a month. But that was it – they wouldn’t
give me any explanation, no reasons, nothing. It didn’t matter how angry I got,
or how much I yelled or cried, they flatly refused to tell me anything at all
other than to say, “Because it’s time,” and “You’ll understand everything soon
enough.” It’s so unfair. Parents shouldn’t be allowed to do things like this to
their kids.

“Amanda, hurry up, honey, they’re
almost finished loading the truck,” Mom calls from downstairs, snapping me back
to the present.

“Coming Mom,” I reply, choking
back my tears.

So, today is the day, my own
personal “D-Day”, the day that I’m forced to walk away from everything I know
and love, because my parents have decided, “it’s time” – whatever the hell that
was supposed to mean. As I look around my empty room tears sting my eyes again.
Every memory I have is tied to this house and this town; my first sleepover
birthday party as four of us tried to cram into my little bed. Or the time when
I thought Susan’s dad was going to hang me for breaking the tail off his ‘prize
fish’ that was hung on the wall behind the door in their basement. I remember
playing those silly, pretend games in the park behind my house with Jordan,
Ellie, Scott and Leslie. My first kiss was downstairs during a brave game of
truth or dare. Then of course there was the day that Jordan and I took the step
from ‘just friends’ to ‘dating’. Our first date ended on the tree swing in my
backyard. I can still taste our first kiss and the heart he carved into the
tree with our initials will always be there.

I still don’t understand why my
parents are so urgent about us moving. They won’t listen to any of my pleas. It’s
the first time I haven’t been able to reason things out with them. I feel an
onset of panic with a shortness of breath and racing heart. This is what I’m
faced with every time I analyze this move too closely. It tears me apart, yet I
need to understand. If my parents would just understand that I need them to
explain. "Because I said so" has never been a viable position in our
family and it's not sitting well with me now.

“Amanda!” Mom calls again. I
stand at the top of the stairs with memories flooding me, all I can think is
‘How on earth am I going to live through this?!’

Taking a deep breath, I head
downstairs, trailing my fingers softly along the banister. Mom was waiting for
me at the bottom of the stairs. As I look at her it strikes me again how utterly
beautiful she is. Even in her faded, worn-out jeans, white t-shirt and runners,
she’s breathtaking. I don’t think I’ll ever get use to it. As I catch my
reflection in the mirror permanently attached to the wall near the front door,
I can’t help but wonder how I turned out so plain with my non-descript brown
hair and my average build. My eyes are really the only piece of beauty I
inherited from my mom, in my opinion. But their bright sea green makes me look
like I’m in a constant state of surprise as opposed to the exotic beauty they
add to her. But one thing is for sure – it’s impossible to hold a grudge
against her. She has such a warm smile, kind eyes and she seems to glow. People
say that it’s because she’s one of the lucky few to find her true soul mate in
life – my dad. Either way, as devastated as I am by this move, she creates so
much calm and peace within me that I’m never able to stay angry. It’s a weird
feeling and it’s been happening more and more lately – I get angry, I have a
little outburst, Mom waits for a pause in my rant then calmly says, “Amanda,
please remember to control your breathing.” Like seriously? But the really
stupid part is that I DO! With one deep breath in and a slow exhale, the next
thing I know, I’m completely calm – all my anger is just gone, like it never
existed. It’s totally messed up, even when I WANT to be angry, I can’t be –
it’s like she puts some kind of spell on me or something. Oh ya, there you go
Amanda, that’s the answer to the sudden weirdness in your life – your mom is
actually a witch! I shake my head, once again baffled by these crazy notions
I'm having.

It’s only taken a month to
prepare our material possessions for the move, for some reason my parents also
had a sudden desire to get rid of tons of our stuff. But it wouldn’t matter how
long it took, I’d never be ready emotionally. I'm so grateful for at least
having had the last month, as it gave me more time with Jordan; my best friend,
my love, my anchor. He was nearly as devastated as me when I told him that my
parents were making me move. But after the initial shock, we set our minds to
our own planning. Working out visit, phone and email schedules, I gained
confidence that we could get through this! I turn sixteen in May and we agreed
that I would finish this school year in my new school. Then in July I would
move back here, we would get our own place and finish our last year of school
together. Having a plan worked out seemed to make things easier to bear. It
allowed me to think of the move more like a long vacation – something
temporary. My parents seemed a little uneasy with my sudden calmness about the
move, but that’s just me – if I don’t have a plan I’m a complete wreck, but
once a plan is in place I can take on the world – bring it on!

Jordan was outside waiting for me
now, so much for taking on the world. In seconds I'm in his arms crying. “Shhhhh,
be strong baby,” he says. “Just remember our plans. Everything will work out
fine in the end.”

“I know, but it’s so hard and so
unfair!” I shoot a glare at my parents. Their expressions startle me; they look
so sad as if they could possibly understand what I’m going through! Yet
again, my anger melts away. Between the compassion and seeming understanding
from my parents and the strength from Jordan, maybe I really am overreacting?

With his fingertips tilting my
chin, Jordan swiftly, but softly, kisses me with an urgency that tells me that
this really is as difficult for him as it is for me – a point I seem to be
overlooking a lot these days. “I love you, Amanda,” he whispers.

“I love you too Jordan and I’m
going to miss you so much!” I hug him fiercely and then force myself to get in
the car, I hate good-byes of any kind and the longer this one takes, the more
of a wreck I will definitely become.

Although my parents could easily
afford to fly us to our new ‘home’, they decided that a twelve-hour drive would
offer more opportunity to fill me in on my new home. I'm dreading it.

The place we’re moving to is a
small village where my parents grew up. We lived there ‘til I was about six
years old, not that I could remember any of it, when they decided that
somewhere less remote would be better for me growing up. Why on earth they
figure a remote village is the better place for me to be now is beyond me. I've
been wondering if it may have something to do with Jordan and I getting so
serious, but that doesn't explain the spooky, glazed-eye-trance thing.

My parents are a bit... odd – to
say the least. Apparently it’s not enough for them that Mom is an extremely
successful, published author, but they both also have an extreme obsession with
fantasy literature and they had me when they were very young – both only
nineteen years old – so I usually put their eccentricities as “parents” down to
these facts. I’ve never met any grandparents and whenever I ask about them all
I get is, “Oh it’s a very long story dear, for another time”. So, I’m thinking
that they must have never learned what being “normal parents” actually meant.
Not that it’s all bad. My parents live every minute for the breath of life – no
less. Having fun is always at the top of the list and most of my friends are
totally envious that my parents aren’t “normal” by their standards. But this
just adds to the weirdness of their behaviour about us suddenly having to move.
It simply doesn’t fit with their mandate of life being “fun”.

I make a weak attempt to settle
into my own self-pity for the long drive ahead – but it's obvious that Mom has
other plans. Listening to tales of her childhood and her fond memories of this
quaint, little village she once called home, it's hard not to get drawn in by
her – she is, after all, a very good writer of fantasy novels. Yet I also feel
like she’s holding something back, like there are parts of her “stories” that
are missing, as if she’s intentionally leaving them out. I have no memories of
their “village” as she keeps calling it and before now she had rarely spoken of
it. But the excitement and enthusiasm within her now is very clear, yet it’s
mixed with an odd sense of anxiety too. Dad’s being unusually quiet during the
drive, but he has a look of peace and happiness about him that makes me wonder
if he’s silently filling in the blanks of what Mom’s leaving out. Watching
them, I catch Mom giving Dad a mischievous, almost impish grin that makes her
look like she's eighteen all over again, though she naturally looks young
anyway. At thirty-five years old, both of my parents have such a youthful look
about them – it’s like time stands still, just for them. Must be another one of
those ‘soul mate’ phenomena I think to myself bitterly. But whether they’re
real or fiction, I’m actually grateful for Mom’s storytelling abilities.

It’s now nine o’clock and we’re
only three hours away from our new “home”. Thankfully, my parents had pre-arranged
a motel room for tonight, since the moving truck won’t be arriving until
tomorrow morning, which suits me fine. I’m tired and glad to have a bed to
sleep in. I fell asleep almost instantly, launching into yet another vivid
series of imaginative dreams.

I wake early, somewhat breathless
from my dreams. They have never been that strong – they almost felt... real
– it's creepy. I also feel increasingly guilty as the boy who haunts my dreams
became more vivid and life-like than ever before. He's utterly beautiful,
completely breathtaking. I often wonder why I don't have dreams like that about
Jordan – but then why would I? He’s safely and deeply entrenched in the essence
of my reality, he’s everything I will ever want. Dreams are for make believe –
fantasy – the stuff of my parents’ writings. Since my dreams have always been
so memorable, I’ve often thought of them as my own little personal movie
theatre right in my head, nothing more than entertainment.

Pushing the dreams from my mind,
I get ready for the final leg of our trip. It's going to be a long, busy day of
unpacking and organizing. Fortunately today is Saturday, so I also have all day
tomorrow to help finish setting up at our new house before I have to face my
first day at my new school. Shuddering as that thought passed through my mind,
I quickly push it aside. I've never had
to switch schools before, away from my friends. I'm nervous about it and not
yet ready to face it head on.

As we pull into the Village I
feel a wave of disappointment. It looks so plain; from Mom’s stories yesterday
I was expecting something... more. But there really isn't much to it. Small,
quaint cottages, sort of pretty I guess, cluster on one side of a lake. The
entire village and lake are completely surrounded by forest. But there really
isn't anything overly special or noteworthy. As I look at the front of our
cottage I again feel a wave of disappointment. It looks impossibly small – I’m
going to feel claustrophobic in this place – the surrounding forest suddenly takes
on more appeal as a place to escape to.

However, as we walk into the
cottage I’m stunned. The inside is huge. I never would’ve guessed it
possible from the optical illusion of the frontage. It’s surprisingly open and
bright. The front half is a single level with an enormous living room, a large
library and a very bright and open kitchen. This part of the cottage also has
really high, open ceilings. It reminds me of the houses you see in some of
those home magazines. It feels so inviting and everything is perfect from pale
paints, to soft, cushiony carpet, dark wood accents and bookcases, beautiful
artwork that reflects calm, peaceful, romantic scenery – it’s utterly tranquil.

As I make my way through to the
back of the house, I find an entertainment room which already contains a
beautiful, full size, grand piano, a harp, some other instruments that I don't
recognize and a variety of sofas and chairs – it’s gorgeous and I get a sudden
sense of déjà vu, something about this room is vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite
put my finger on it. I carry on, finding a huge formal dining room – again
already furnished.

As I turn to head back to the
front part of the house, I spot a staircase leading upstairs – it totally
blends into its surroundings and although it’s large, I almost missed it.
Upstairs there are three large bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. Two of the
rooms are empty and one is again already furnished. I go into what I assume
will be my bedroom. It’s got a large closet – sweet - and it’s going to be super
cool to have my own private bathroom. My exploration is cut short with the
arrival of the moving truck.

I jump when I hear Mom call me
and turning around I expect her to be stood right behind me, but she’s not
there. Baffled, I make my way back downstairs to the front of the house, ready
to start the long day of work ahead of us. As I approach Mom I say, “Wow, the
acoustics in this place are amazing.”

“Why’s that, honey?”

“Well, just now, when you called
me, I would’ve sworn that you were stood right behind me it was so clear.”

She just grins at me with that
same mischievous, impish grin she’d been giving Dad all day yesterday. I shake
my head as her grin infects my own smile. She gives me a quick hug, whispers my
name and says, “You’re going to love it here – I can feel it.”

I wish I could share her enthusiasm,
but I can’t and she can’t possibly know that the few months that I was going to
be here would not be near long enough to sway me from the plans I had secretly
made with Jordan. Replaying in my mind the certainty in her voice, it occurred
to me that although she had spoken my name, it sounded different, almost like
she had missed pronouncing the “d”. I shake the fuzzy haze I feel clouding my
mind and focus on the daunting task ahead of unpacking and organizing.

Exhausted, I flop down on my bed.
We’d achieved a great deal and it feels somewhat gratifying. There’s no
question that I’m not happy about this move. However, I’ve always been a
practical person. I’ve got my plans figured out and until those can be set into
motion there’s nothing more I can do about it. So until then, I may as well
make the best of it all. I've never understood people who dwell on things. I
mean sometimes there are situations out of my control, that's just life. What I
can control is my reaction, my experience of those situations and what I'm
going to do about them if anything. I don't have to like a situation for there
to be some kind of take away from it. Knowing in my mind that this is a
temporary situation, at least for me, allows me to think about what I’m going
to do to enjoy this “vacation”. My bed was one of the first projects I had
tackled today and I am now extremely glad for that. I crawl into the familiar
softness and scent and drift off to sleep immediately – it's not even fully
dark outside.

My sleep was restless and I was
accosted with dreams so intense that I wake up feeling disoriented and confused
about where I am. I lay there in the dim morning light for a long time struggling
against the reality of my dreams, trying to get a grip on myself.

I can feel myself still sweating
and shaking and it takes several deep breaths to calm myself so that I can
think more clearly. I try to just push the dreams out of my mind and focus on
my plan of action for the day, but it's hopeless. Thoughts of my dreams keep
pushing their way to the front of my mind. With another deep breath, I try a
different approach. It’s obvious that I’m going to have to address these dreams
to be able to put them to rest.

I start at the beginning,
categorizing each component. The dream started in our new home – I was in the
entertainment room and there was music playing. Someone was playing the piano,
but I couldn’t see whom. I saw myself playing the harp – which was odd, because
I don’t normally ‘see’ myself in my dreams. It also makes me laugh because I’m
completely tone deaf and don’t have a scrap of musical talent within me – leave
it to the miraculous makings of a dream! But that aside, this part was reasonable,
I was thoroughly impressed by the entertainment room yesterday, so it made
sense that I would see myself enjoying the wonders of it and secretly I’d
always wished that I could play some kind of musical instrument.

Phew – ok, deep breath. Maybe
this isn’t so bad. The next thing I had seen in my dream was the forest
surrounding me, I was exploring my new surroundings, but I wasn’t alone. That
beautiful boy was there, again. I focus on him to see if I can grasp what the
deal is with his constant recurrence in my dreams.

He's slightly taller than me,
with long, blonde hair, a pale complexion and the bluest eyes I’d ever seen.
Every now and then he would look at me and smile – my knees would go weak, my
heart would flutter, my tummy did somersaults and I turned to mush. He was
breathtaking! This one is harder to process. I’m in love with Jordan! So why is
this fictional, beauty-boy causing such a volcanic reaction in my body? A
reaction that is resurfacing this very minute while I lay in my bed replaying my
dreams. I take another deep breath and refocus. Ok, maybe I’ll come back to
this part of the dream in a bit. I move on to the next part.

Next I recall thinking that I’d
woken up, shaken by the very real physical reaction my body had during my
dream. I remember getting up and going to my window. This was when I’d realized
that I’d not actually woken up, but that my mind had simply needed a diversion.
Because when I looked out my window into the pitch black of the night, I gasped
and held my breath. The vision before me was impossibly beautiful – perhaps
even more beautiful than the boy. With a magical, iridescent glow, the entire
village seemed to pulse with a heartbeat of its own. The lake water shimmered
at the beckon of a light breeze and the reflection of the cottage lights danced
across the surface. Exhaling at the impossible beauty before me, my heartbeat
slowed and my entire body relaxed as all the anxiety of the last month melted
away – I don’t recall ever feeling so incredibly calm.

It must have been the break my
subconscious had needed, because shortly after that my mind drifted back into
the truly disturbing parts.

This time I was in the forest,
again with beauty-boy, but it was safer this time – or so I thought – he was
behind me so I couldn’t see him or be distracted by his eyes, his smile or his
unearthly beauty. He was behind me because he was teaching me how to shoot a
bow and arrow.

What was it with these dreams
willing me to have some kind of talent or skill?! I’m gonna have to find something
I can do. Apparently my lack of talent at anything has been a deeper concern
for me than I ever gave it credit for! Maybe I should try archery – why not –
with a forest this big there must be a safe area where I won’t cause too much
damage.

Suddenly I felt a white hot, heat
current jolt through my body. It started at my right hand where I was pulling
back on the elastic string part of the bow; it travelled up my arm and flowed
through my entire body. I could feel it spreading like it was moving in slow motion.
Beauty-boy had touched me! Holy crap! What WAS that?! The damned of it was that
once again, it was soooo vivid, so strong and so realistic, that as I lay in my
bed – fully conscious – working through my replay, it feels as real as if
someone had just injected me with some kind of lava serum! It wasn’t ‘painful’
per se, but I'm stunned, paralyzed and I'm holding my breath.

After what seems like forever, I
slowly exhale. Perhaps addressing these dreams head on isn’t such a great idea
after all! On my sixth deep breath, trying to calm myself, Mom’s voice makes me
jump. “Are you awake sweetie? Are you ok? I thought I heard you scream.” It's
just a whisper, but it's so clear that it's like she's kneeling right next to
my bed, which of course she isn’t. Mom had just grinned at me when I commented
on the acoustics in this place yesterday. Maybe she's up to some of her tricks,
there must be an intercom hidden in here somewhere. I pinch myself just to
double check that I really am awake and then reply with, “I’m fine Mom, just a
dream,” having no clue whether she could hear me or not. I frown then, a bit
confused, had I really screamed out loud? I thought it had just been in my head
as part of my dream.

‘Amanda’ I think to myself, ‘you
have got to pull it together! People are going to declare you officially insane
and lock you away if you keep this up!’

So taking yet another deep,
stabilizing breath I decide that my dream analysis is just going to have to
wait. I get out of bed and look at the laptop sitting on my desk. I’d tried to
connect to my email yesterday to see what Jordan might have sent me, but our
Internet was obviously not set up yet. I’ll have to mention it to my parents so
they don’t forget to set it up on Monday. I suddenly realize that I've had no
contact with Jordan since we left Friday morning. That realization bothers me a
bit, but then between Mom’s stories during the drive, the non-stop work of
unpacking and the exhaustion, I guess it isn't that surprising. I’ll give him a
call a bit later to let him know we arrived safely; it's too early for him to
be up right now anyway. With that decision made, I set about getting ready for
the day, still troubled by the intensity of my dream and what it could possibly
mean.

William Elliott Kern:
Whew. one telling his story, in the Bar, to his friend, who questions some circumstances that need clarity, The Confusion comes from a man, carrying his dead friend Chappies, while conversing with himself, and Chappies, and his alter ego......a broken mind, not yet forgotten..........The Author ...

Bad:
The Setting was applicable to the characters, the readers can relate to the story.The author use the POV which the readers can feel, and the author keeps hook in every chapter and it will make you to rethink about everything.It was a hooking story, since from the beginning to the end, it has many...

William Elliott Kern:
A young boy," later found on the highway by General Jarda", was murdered by Barbarians, came back to life as he was an Anmah, age 6 when the loss of his family had occured.........General Jarda, took the boy, gave him a new name, and introduced him to another Anham and the King, This Story is w...

Mary Abigail:
I have always been a serious reader but reading romance has always been an outlet for me to be happy and this, makes me happy. It's entertaining with just enough drama and maybe a bit more - I do need more.

Kevin Brand:
My overall rating: 4.8/5 starsLoved. Every. Second. Everytime I came back to continue reading I got this overwhelming feeling of getting hooked on the first sentence... Over and over and again!The only things that were missing for me include more descriptions on what happens when Reuben touches s...

Hali McGowan:
when will the third book be done? I am absolutely hooked. I red the first two books within less than a week. I'm itching for the third one. The plotline is absolutely wonderful. I've never been much for sci-fi ish books. but you've got me hooked on this series

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